


Seigyo (Control)

by vogue91



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Control, Crossdressing, Love, M/M, Oral Sex, School Uniforms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 12:20:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14135931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vogue91/pseuds/vogue91
Summary: “And anyway, precisely, you’re okaa-san. You should be the one to wear the stupid skirt, not me.”





	Seigyo (Control)

“Okaa-san! I’m still not sure it’s a good idea, you know?”

Tamaki’s voice was muffled, coming from the other room, and Kyoya nicely pretended not to hear it.

He couldn’t help smiling, though, at the thought of the elder finding himself in that situation without being able to tell him no and, maybe, even appreciating a little his initiative, still pretending to be annoyed by it.

“So?” he asked, after a few minutes. “How long does it take?”

“It’s not easy!” the other boy yelled, and this time he heard him loud and clear, with that lamenting tone of his that Kyoya pretended so well to find annoying. “This... this _thing_ doesn’t want to stay up, okaa-san!”

Kyoya chuckled slightly, getting closer to the door and knocking softly.

“Come on, it can’t be so big. I’m sure it’s you who don’t know how to wear it. Want a hand?” he provoked him, fixing the glasses on his face.

From the other side came only a muffled sound that could be nothing but vexed, and just then Tamaki came out of the room, blushing hard.

“I’m ridiculous!” the boy complained, his fists closed around the hem of the skirt he was wearing.

Kyoya had to appeal to all his, luckily trained, self-control not to burst out laughing seeing the condition of the other one.

“Why? I don’t find you ridiculous at all. On the contrary, I think it really fits you.” he tried to convince him, keeping a straight face.

“But, okaa-san...!” the other kept complaining, and so Kyoya put an arm around his shoulders, looking at him.

“I thought you liked cosplays, right Tama?” he pointed out. “Aren’t you the one who always insists on making us dress up when we’re at the Club?”

“That has nothing to do with it!” Tamaki replied, losing for a moment any trace of complaining from his voice. “That’s for our hime-sama, okaa-san, not so that you can make fun of me.” he paused, crossing his arms over his chest. “And anyway, precisely, you’re okaa-san. You should be the one to wear the stupid skirt, not me.”

Kyoya raised an eyebrow, shrugging and getting in front of him, brushing his arms in slow movements up to low, meant to relax him.

“That’s exactly why I’ve always told you that I’m not the okaa-san, _otou-san.”_ he pointed out, grinning.

Tamaki snorted, frustrated, straightening the skirt over his legs and trying to pull it down for it to at least reach his knees

Ouran Kokou’s uniform had certainly its charm on the King, Kyoya had to admit it, just like he had to admit that the only reason why he had asked him to wear it was not to make fun of him.

But Tamaki didn’t need to know that, or he would’ve never accepted.

“When can I take it off, okaa-san?” he asked, remarking the last words, as to underline that, it didn’t matter who wore the skirt and who the pants, he was still the otou-san.

“You’ve just put it on and already want to take it off?” Kyoya asked innocently, going to him and forcing him to back off till his back was against the wall. “It would be a shame, wouldn’t it? Since you’ve got that on, try and make something of it, huh?”

Tamaki didn’t have time to reply that Kyoya’s mouth was on his.

The latter kissed him almost violently, pushing him harder against the wall, bringing a hand to his leg and going up, under the skirt’s hem.

Arrived to the point where he thought he would’ve found his boxers he stopped, bursting out laughing.

“I didn’t think you were going to bring it to this point, Tama.” he said, and couldn’t stop laughing while he pulled the skirt up, over the panties worn by Tamaki.

It was a pretty ridiculous image, he had to admit that.

“You know that when I do something I do it right.” Tamaki justified himself, then pulled him back on himself. “And be quick, they’re tight.” he complained, kissing him again, with more force than before.

Kyoya smiled against his lips and was back caressing up his leg, before freeing him from the, actually uncomfortable, panties.

He brought a hand under his thigh, lifting it and bringing it against his hip, while the fingers of his free hand unbuttoned his shirt with a torturous slowness; Tamaki moaned, pressing himself harder against him as to show him he wanted more, that he wanted this to be faster.

That he needed him, and this lack of shame in admitting it was one the reasons why Kyoya found him incredibly arousing.

Once he was done unbuttoning his shirt, Tamaki made as to take it off, but Kyoya stopped him, pulling back from the kiss.

“It’s funnier this way, right?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, and Tamaki didn’t oppose him.

He held on his shoulders though, this time forcing him to back off, meeting the heavy wooden table in the middle of the room and gesturing to lean against it, before going with his hands on his chest, down and to his trousers.

Tamaki threw him a look so innocent that in such a circumstance Kyoya couldn’t help but lose his smile, swallowing and staring at him while, in an atrociously slow way, he went down to his knees, bringing his face at the same height of his groin.

“Tama, don’t be evil.” he said, with that voice that was usually capable of making the other boy fold. This time, anyway, seemed like Tamaki was very well determined into avenging the humiliation of having to wear the female uniform, and didn’t hear him.

It seemed to Kyoya that he took hours to undo his belt, when it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes.

Kyoya brought a hand through his hair, tightening his hold without trying to push him further, respecting his pace.

When he was free from his boxers, Tamaki leant over him, licking on his cock, slightly, not at all enough to satisfy him; Kyoya didn’t complain and surrendered to him, waiting for him to decide to give him something more.

When he wrapped his lips completely around him he was caught off guard, and moaned out loud.

Looking at him he thought he saw him smirk, but he didn’t care.

His hand now had a better hold on his hair, and pushed him against himself, pushed him to take him all down to the hilt, and he knew it wasn’t a matter of strength, that Tamaki was letting him do that, that after all he didn’t dislike that treatment at all.

When Kyoya felt Tamaki’s throat with the tip of his cock he stopped, or he knew that he wasn’t going to do it anymore had he pushed further.

Tamaki was slowly back on his feet, a satisfied smirk on his face, and kissed him.

“Okaa-san...” he said in his ear, and Kyoya closed his eyes, shaking his head

“I think it’s about time you stop calling me okaa-san, don’t you think so Tama?” he said, pulling his up and switching their positions quickly, setting him down on the table, opening his legs harshly and settling between them.

“And why? Don’t you think that’s funny?” he asked, bringing his arms around his neck and pushing against him, biting down on his lip.

“At all. To tell you the truth, I was meaning to fuck Tamaki, not _otou-san_.” he pointed out, bringing a hand against his opening and brushing it for a few seconds before letting a finger slip inside.

“Kyoya!” Tamaki yelled, clenching his eyes and tilting his bead back, starting to move against him, fidgeting when the finger became two and then three, while the other body kept pushing them as deep as he could inside of him, feeding his desire to the point of making it unbearable, more than to prepare him thoroughly.

“So... who’s the one wearing pants, Tama?” he asked grinning, moving his hand faster, climbing the walls of the control he had on Tamaki.

“It’s you.” Suoh said, quickly. “It’s you, it’s you. _Mon dieu_ Kyoya, do something. Move.” he begged, wrapping his legs around his back as to close him up in a vice, as if he wanted to force him inside.

Kyoya laughed, and made his fingers disappear abruptly, caressing his damp face.

“ _Bien s_ _û_ _r,_ King.” he mocked him.

He pulled up the skirt as much as he needed to reach his hole with his cock, pushing inside of him with one hard thrust, so that Tamaki couldn’t hold back a scream.

Then Kyoya kept still, just for a few seconds before starting to move inside of him, feeling now the urge and the need piled up until now.

He closed his eyes and grabber his hips, pulling him against himself so that he met his thrusts, focusing on the feeling of having him around, tight, hot, that feeling so familiar to which he was never going to give up.

Tamaki moaned shamelessly, repeating his name, alternating it to chocked screams when Kyoya pushed in deeper, barely finding the strength to grab Kyoya’s wrist and bring his hand on his cock.

Ootori had lost his capability of smiling, but he still found gorgeous this side of his boyfriend.

All the rush, all the need and the lack of inhibitions in asking exactly what he wanted, one by one, they were all things that made him go completely crazy, and it hadn’t been but a few minutes that he already felt close.

He moved his hand on Tamaki’s shaft faster, wanting him to come first and easily reaching his goal.

Tamaki arched his back, tilting his head and climaxing just like that.

Kyoya leant over to press his lips on his neck, kissing him almost tenderly while he kept thrusting inside of him mercilessly, biting the same spot on his neck when he came as well, emptying himself inside Tamaki’s scorching hot body.

For a few minutes there wasn’t a sound, aside from their panting breath, while Kyoya slipped out of him and sat next to him on the table, an arm around his waist to pull him closer.

“See?” he said, his breath still heavy. “I told you it wasn’t going to be a bad idea having you wear that uniform.”

Tamaki grinned, doubtful, resting his head on his shoulder and taking his hand, intertwining their fingers.

“Alright. But just know I’m never going to do that again. It doesn’t matter what I told you before, you’re still okaa-san and I’m still otou-san.” he said, pouting.

Kyoya rolled his eyes, but when he looked back at Tamaki he smiled.

“I was kidding, of course. No one could ever doubt your status, otou-san.” he allowed, chewing on his lips so that he wouldn’t laugh seeing the satisfied look on his face.

“That’s what I thought.” he said, getting up. “Now, it’s better that I go wash myself. And change. Seriously, I can’t understand skirts, they’re really uncomfortable.” he commented, getting away.

“Tama!” Kyoya called him. “Keep it. You never know.” he teased him, looking eloquently at him.

Tamaki raised an eyebrow, but then he shrugged.

While he turned his back on his again, Kyoya was sure he saw him smile.

He was completely satisfied.

It didn’t matter how Tamaki wanted him to call him, it didn’t matter whether he was convinced or not of being in control.

What truly mattered, was that he was aware of when it was Kyoya being completely in control of him.

And for the rest, Kyoya was letting him do as he pleased.

Making him believe to have the upper hand, after all, was actually the duty of a good okaa-san.


End file.
